Black Thorn
by Senkellia
Summary: Exiled from the Zora tribe because of a deformity since birth, Dante tries to find acceptance, love, a father, everything the Zora have starved him of all his life. He finds life is harder than he'd thought, and things he would have been happier without..
1. Prologue

Hello, all ^__^ Welcome to my Zelda fiction, Black Thorn. This story was inspired by a sketch I drew the night before I started to write this chapter in my science class. I was drawing a Zora, and then spontaneously decided to make something different about him. Why? Because I wanted to, that's why. That immediately spawned thoughts of 'what if?' and I suddenly wanted to tell the story of this strange Zora that no one accepted. I can't tell you what is different about him now, because that would ruin the surprise. Just read it.  
  
(Ps- I don't own anything. Get over it. Pickles.)  
  
*****  
  
Dante wept as the piercing eyes all took him in. Lying curled on his side on the gritty floor of the Zora Hall, he was only dimly aware of his stinging jaw and burning face. All he could see were the eyes, ever piercing, ever cold, full of hatred. Hatred. Hate.  
  
They hate me... All of them.  
  
It was all he could hear in his mind. All he knew was the hatred and the eyes. Dante snatched at his trousers and tugged them back over his hips as he pulled himself to his shaky feet. It was over. He could cover it up now, he could hide it, but he could not erase that one horrible moment from their minds. The disgusting reality he was... the distortion that now lay hidden within his trousers. He looked around him at the still Zora that were once his society. One by one, he met their eyes. None looked away. Finally, he turned to face his only brother.  
  
Tokaw's jaw was firmly set, his eyes showing no trace of emotion. His fist was still tight at his side, the knuckles still slightly white from the impact that had stung Dante's jaw so just moments before, though it had seemed an eternity to both.  
  
'You're disgusting.'  
  
Dante had heard the words a thousand times, but they stung twice as much coming from his brother's lips. He gazed numbly at them, the lips that had just shattered all that remained of Dante's tiny world. Fresh tears began to blur his vision as he turned to his mother. She was already bolting across the seashell stage to her dressing room, her hands unsuccessfully covering her tears. His Uncle Japas was right behind her, calling for her to come back. Dante looked down to his hand, at his birthmark.. a small patch of skin paler than the rest of his typical, icy blue Zora coloring. He glanced back to his brother. His only brother, 5 years older, and a man he had spent his life beside, admiring him, supporting him, worshipping him. How often had he bragged to the other Zora boys about how strong and brave his big brother Tokaw was? Now that brother was lost. He hated Dante just as much, if not more than the rest of them.  
  
Dante knew. He had to leave. Now.  
  
Or he would soon become feed for the fishes of the Great Bay. 


	2. A Delicate Balance

Dante was the first common Zora to ever wear clothing. He turned giddy with excitement every time he pulled out his trousers... he had only seen five winters when he obtained his first pair. He had found the trousers of the traveling merchant fascinating... so fascinating, in fact, that he had spent 2 whole blue rupees on a pair. (Dante had never seen so much money in all his life -- the rupees had been a birthday gift from his Uncle Japas.) Sure, the trousers were the most inexpensive pair there and yes, they were plain brown with a simple string as a belt, but to Dante they were the most beautiful things he had ever laid eyes on. He had proudly strutted about, showing anyone who would listen about how the fabric was stitched together with fine thread from Clock Town, how they were held up with a dog-hair rope from Romani Ranch, how they folded and stretched with every movement he made.  
  
The other children were so amazed at the treasure, they almost managed to overlook the four locks of shiny black hair protruding from Dante's forehead.  
  
After Dante's birth, some of the older, less open-minded Zoras had immediately labeled the baby as a monster, with no hope for any future. After all, he had black tentacles on his face! They had said to dry the tadpole out, or hook it, or give it to the local experimentation lab, anything but keep it in their Hall. The mother fought for the baby, and after much debating and tears, the child was permitted to stay. He was diagnosed simply as a disabled Zora with a non-contagious disease involving recurring mutations. They had cut the black things, pulled them, plucked them, but they always came back eventually, so the experiments were called off. They seemed to cause the baby serious displeasure anyway.  
  
Dante's mother raised him and loved him, naming him after a legendary Zora hero. She prayed the name would give him strength and courage to live differently. Dante grew, and never complained about himself. He lived among the rest of them, resembling a Zora in every way, the only exceptions being the black hair and his headfin. It was longer and straighter than a regular headfin, but no one ever paid any heed. It was rare not to have one or two different headfins in a generation. He lived in the Hall with the rest of them, occasionally venturing out to play on the beach, and every twelve days to the temple, to pray with his mother. He never prayed to change. He never prayed to be like everyone else. He thanked the Gods he was alive, and prayed his fellow Zoras would permit him to stay that way another day.  
  
As Dante aged, he found that his beloved trousers were growing smaller and smaller, seemingly by the second. He began to pray another merchant would come, so he could buy new ones.  
  
His faith was not in vain.  
  
When another merchant paid call, Dante was six winters wiser, and had been saving every greener he found to add to his trouser funds. When he added all the greeners with the four blue rupees he had saved from his past two birthdays, he had thirty-seven rupees to call his own. Dante hoped it would be enough to buy a finer pair of trousers that would last longer. He managed to lay his hands on a pair of soft, shiny, tan-colored trousers with a leather belt and metal buckle, valued at forty-five rupees. He had borrowed four rupees from his mother, and the merchant had been kind enough to let the trousers go for only forty-one rupees.  
  
Dante was fortunate the ones he had chosen were of good quality, and built to last long. He would soon need them to help conceal the secret that would all too soon ruin his life.  
  
When he began to approach his fourteenth winter, Dante was terrified to find that his black disease had begun to spread to his underarms, and worse, his most private places. He was afraid to tell anyone; they would label him diseased, contagious, and hazardous. His trousers became his most treasured possession, the only thing standing between him and exile.  
  
On the merchant's next visit, shortly after Dante's sixteenth winter, he provided Dante with a forest-green, one-shouldered cape that, with a few minor alterations, covered the bottom half of Dante's face. He wanted to hide his chin and cheeks -- the disease had begun to spread there as well. Sometimes he could take a sharp rock he kept hidden in a box under his bed and scrape some of the black off, but it always left his chin prickly after a day or two, and it also cut his face something fierce.  
  
After Dante had seen nineteen winters, his mother began to worry; he was still unmarried. All the Zora boys he had grown up with had been married for at least two winters by now, and she had never even seen Dante with a girl.  
  
Dante did not dare tell anyone that he had never before laid with a woman -- never even been with one on a remotely intimate level -- but he could not do so, or she would surely speak of his disease with others, then word of it would spread faster than the disease itself.  
  
Dante became accustomed to living alone with only a mother and uncle as companions. He spent his time playing his guitar, and thinking of the lost father he had never known. Everything was laid out in a delicate balance.  
  
That balance was thrown off the instant Dante was thrown off his feet by his brother, to have the trousers torn away to reveal his disease to all... the disease he had taken to calling the Black Thorn.  
  
They had all seen it... they all knew.  
  
All Dante knew then was that he had to leave. Now.  
  
Or he would soon become feed for the fishes of the Great Bay. 


	3. Audience of Five

Och, haven't done this in quite the long while. not at all in this story, I don't think. bad thing there, me droogs. Zelda's not mine, but Danté, Lumille, Tulo, Mayaw. all of them are. So you can just adore my bum for it.  
  
***  
  
The rocks by the beach had never seemed colder to Danté as he sat, nibbling at one of the small fish he had stolen from his mother's cupboards. The glowing orange sky brought out the silhouette of the Zora Hall beautifully as Danté gazed numbly. He had not even said goodbye to her. He had not said goodbye to anyone... no one, except his Uncle Japas.  
  
Japas had simply been staring at the stage of the Zora Hall when Danté had finally found him. They had sat on the small balcony overlooking the hall for over an hour, talking quietly, neither one saying what they really wanted to. Japas and Danté both knew just how much they meant to the other. When Danté finally stood to begin packing his few belongings, Japas stood and hugged him tightly without saying a word. Danté had thought that would be the last time they ever met.  
  
He had been just about to swim out of the Hall, small pack in hand, when he was proven wrong as he heard a call from behind him. He had turned to see Japas running towards him, with... Danté's eyes were wide. Japas running towards him, with Danté's guitar in hand. Japas had skidded to a stop, panting as he leaned on his knee with one hand, holding the guitar out to him in the other. Danté stared a moment, then took it silently, fighting back tears. He hadn't taken it with him at first because the guitar was really his Uncle's - Danté had just been borrowing it as he saved for his own. Danté had always felt something swell inside him when he played that guitar, because his mother had told him it was a very special gift from one of Japas' best friends years and years ago... and now Japas was giving it to him. Danté had choked out a quiet 'thank-you', and Japas had looked up from his panting to give him a small wink. Danté had turned and left without another word... he had known that if he stayed a moment longer, he would never have been able to leave.  
  
Now Danté sat on the rocks, his small dinner finished, still gazing at his old home as the sky deepened in colour. He did not relish the idea of sleeping on the sand, as there was the danger of Like Likes and Leevers. He looked around, trying to find any sort of shelter for the night. He saw nothing. Standing, he decided to look further down the beach, to see if anything came up. As he walked, he saw two Zora removing clay pots from small stone pillars. He walked quickly toward them.  
  
'Excuse me, do... you...' Only after he had begun to speak did he remember his exile.  
  
One of the Zora straightened from his packing.  
  
'Yes?' When he recognized Danté, he smiled. 'Oh, Danté! Good to see you, lad!' He clapped Danté on the back, and Danté recognized him as Tulo, one of the few Zora he was on rather good terms with. Danté knew that when Tulo returned to the hall that night, all that would change forever.  
  
'You too!' said Danté, in a falsely cheerful tone. He cleared his throat, and tried to sound more natural. 'Tell me, Tulo, what's all this?' He asked, indicating the clay pots with a vague wave of his arm.  
  
'Oh, this is a little game Mayaw and I have been running for a while now. We were reading some old books a while back, and turns out this game was huge maybe 20 years ago. Some guy was really good at it... won every time... what was his name again, Mayaw?'  
  
His wife looked up from her packing and frowned.  
  
'I can't believe you don't know yet, Tulo.' She said, shaking her head. 'But then again, it was only the guitarist from the best Zora band in over a century... you know, nothing huge.'  
  
The Zora scowled at her husband and returned to her packing. Danté glanced down and saw a shimmer of - his heart skipped - silver, purple, red, blue, yellow... The shimmer of money. He looked back at Tulo when he began to speak.  
  
'Sorry, sorry. Geez, honey, lighten up.' He turned back to Danté. 'It was... Niko or Mikaw or something like that... you know, guitarist for the Idio-Dos or whatever.' He said carelessly, shrugging.  
  
'No, no, NO!!' bellowed Mayaw, moving at Tulo. 'How many times have I told you?? Mikau from the Indigo-gos!! Don't you ever listen??'  
  
As she continued her serenade, Tulo made a face at Danté over Mayaw's shoulder.  
  
'Uhm, uh, so what's the game, Mayaw?' asked Danté, to spare Tulo any more beating.  
  
'...and you KNOW I love them, you could at least TRY to... hm?' She turned to Danté. 'Oh! Well, you stand here - ' She shuffled Danté over in front of the centre pillar - 'get your fins ready for firing and shoot them! You have to try to break all the pots with one shot. If you win, you get 100 rupees! Well, 90 since the player has to pay for the broken pots.'  
  
She smiled happily, and poked his ribs.  
  
'Well, what are you waiting for? Go on, try!'  
  
Danté then saw that while his wife had been speaking, Tulo had unpacked and placed a round of pots. He grinned.  
  
Danté knew he needed this. He needed money to live, and he didn't know how long it would be until he got another opportunity like this. He crossed his arms, and took aim, one eye closed. When he was sure it was aligned properly, he let go and prayed. He didn't have 10 rupees to pay for the pots if he lost.  
  
Next he knew, his fins were back and 90 rupees were being pressed into his hands, Tulo and Mayaw clapping and laughing their congratulations.  
  
What he didn't know was that he had another audience... an audience of five redheads, all dressed in purple, with veils, spears, and a thirst for treasures none could quench.  
  
***  
  
All Danté saw was a flash of steel and the swish of a veil before full darkness surrounded him. He struggled to breathe as a rope was tied around his neck, sealing the rough bag around his head. As his arms thrashed, thin but callused fingers clamped around his ankles and he felt rough rope binding them together. The same happened to his wrists moments afterward. Next he knew, smooth wood was pressing against his back and he could hear water splashing all around him. He cried out through the cloth gag tied around his mouth. He had barely begun his second cry before he felt something blunt and hard collide with the side of his head. After that, all he knew was darkness.  
  
***  
  
'Good job, girls. 90 rupees. An excellent catch. I suppose he was in the Spider House?'  
  
'Yes, Aveil. That fisherman got us another one.'  
  
Silence for a moment.  
  
'He truly has been invaluable to us...'  
  
'...Miss... Miss Aveil, don't you think it's time we, well... you know...'  
  
'We rewarded him, Lumille?' The voice had a slight edge to it.  
  
'Well... well, yes, Aveil. That's seven he's gotten us now, and gold knows how much... well, it's not in his business of fishing to do this sort of thing normally, you know that.'  
  
Silence again, longer this time.  
  
'... I know.' A throat being cleared. 'Send three of your best girls to him tonight. I don't care who it is, just as long as they let him have his way with them. If he's not satisfied tomorrow morning, I'll send you to him for a fortnight, Lumille.' More edge to the voice that time.  
  
'Y-yes, Aveil. Right away.'  
  
Scurrying footsteps. A sigh.  
  
Danté squinted as he sat up. His head throbbed. He inspected the sore with his fingers and found he had a lump there the size of an egg. He groaned. As he moved to stand, images suddenly flashed through his mind. The fisherman's hut. André... his name was André. André giving him a small meal by firelight. André leading him to the Spider House, letting him stay there for the night. Then he slept. Then... Danté's heart was pounding. Then he was taken. The sack on his head, the ropes, the wood, the water...  
  
Danté realised he was in a clean but drab, perfectly square room. The walls were plain grey steel, and he realised there was a window behind him. A barred window. Danté looked apprehensively down through the bars. What lay beneath him confirmed his deepest fears.  
  
Lush carpets covered one end of the room. Piles of gold and jewels littered the floor, with decorations of wood carvings and feathers adorning the walls and ceilings. The whole room gave off an aura of wealth, power and intimidation, but it was nothing compared to the fear its inhabitants instilled in Danté.  
  
Five gerudo pirate guards patrolled about the room, all dressed in the same uniform : purple clothes, veils, spears. Only one woman in the room was different... her hair was longer and better taken care of, her clothes were blood red, and she seemed to be wearing double the wealth in the whole room on her ears and fingers alone. She lay, staring into space on a lush red loveseat that sat at the head of the room. Danté knew who she must be -- Aveil, the one he had just heard commanding the guard called Lumille. He knew she must be the leader of the pirates.  
  
She terrified him more than any creature of the night could. 


	4. Long Accustomed To Being Used

I own nothing, save my characters. Get over it.  
  
***  
  
Lumille sighed as she watched the three young girls depart in the small boat. They had no idea what would soon be done to them come nightfall. Tears stung at her eyes, but she immediately blinked them away. She knew that the slightest showing of weakness was heavily punished by Miss Aveil...  
  
Lumille turned slowly and began climbing back into the pirate camp, her home of 10 years. She was melancholy every time she saw a little girl holding a spear... she still remembered vividly the day she was taken from her father to become a pirate. The fire... the screaming... the last she ever saw of her father was in a rather messy heap on her own bedroom floor with a spear protruding from his left eye. All of Ikana Village was burned to the ground that morning. She had seen only 6 winters.  
  
Unlike the other gerudo she lived with, Lumille had not been born a pirate. She was the daughter of Tortus, the most recent male gerudo to grace the race of women. He had left the pirates when he had seen 27 winters, wanting to see the town, the world. He had married a woman he met in the Clock Town, the owner of the Stock Pot Inn. They had married, and had a little daughter, Anju. Anju and Lumille had the same father, but not the same mother. Tortus had left his wife and daughter, though Lumille had never dared ask why he'd left. She supposed he had simply gotten bored of town life. Lumille had never met Anju or even her own mother -- Tortus always said she'd died giving birth to Lumille. Still, Lumille had always wondered about her big sister; what she was like, how she looked. Lumille always thought she must be very pretty, since Anju had to the prettiest name she'd ever heard.  
  
Lumille remembered those days... how a simple name had given her so much joy. How simple stories of another family had made her happy, despite how alone she really was.  
  
Now Lumille was hardened at a meager sixteen winters seen, faith in others lost after only six. She just did not understand the point of opening up to someone when it would all just make you more vulnerable than when you started out anyway. Suffer alone and lose alone, no dragging anyone else down. That was just the way she thought.  
  
Little did she know things would soon change.  
  
***  
  
Danté sighed. He had no idea how long he had been in the pirate's cell; all he knew was the persistent and unpleasant grumbling of his stomach.  
  
'It's going to digest itself if I don't get a proper meal soon...' he thought bitterly. He couldn't sleep in the cell - his terror was too great. Every minute he could hear the clashing of spears, the battle cries of the women, the clinking of gold as it was added to the piles. From listening to the pirates speaking with Aveil, he managed to learn a great deal about the fortress he was being held captive in. Much to his surprise, he found out that it was only slightly west from where he had first laid down to sleep in the Spider House. Every minute he was trying to find a way out, but his hunger was beginning to overpower plans of escape in his mind.  
  
Suddenly, Danté jumped. He heard a strange, grinding sound across the room, from behind the wall. He looked up to see a section of the wall disappearing. An instant later he realized it was a door being unlocked and opened, a door he had not even known was there. It opened the rest of the way to reveal a very pretty but distraught-looking gerudo pirate carrying a covered tray with both hands. It seemed to Danté that she could not have seen more than 16 winters in her life. She closed the door behind her, then set the tray down on the floor, and removed the covering. What was revealed shocked Danté more than the visit itself, or even the visitor.  
  
Seven whole fish of seven different species lay in neat filets on a large silver platter. The filets lay on a bed of greens and cheeses Danté had never seen before. He glanced up at her a moment before diving into the food, his stomach rising above his reason. She stood leaning against the wall, unmoving, silent, watching him as he satisfied his hunger. Her face betrayed no emotion, but her eyes spoke volumes of her life to the experienced reader. Her eyes buzzed with thought and consideration, decisions being made every second. They were certainly beautiful, but haunting; they contained more wisdom than befit her age.  
  
'Don't bother to thank me, please.'  
  
He looked up. She smirked.  
  
'I'm long accustomed to being used, believe me. Just know this - this meal is from my own plate. You aren't meant to have any visitors, or any meals. They mean to leave you here until you die.'  
  
Danté froze, a chill dancing along his spine. She moved across the room and sat with her legs spread, feet together, arms wrapped loosely around her bent knees.  
  
'I'm Lumille.'  
  
He quickly downed the rather large bite of trout he had in his mouth.  
  
'Danté.' he extended his hand in greeting. She didn't even move hers. After a moment of silence, he let his own drop back to his plate.  
  
'Sorry about that rope, by the way.' He looked at her again, bewildered by this sudden apology, for what he didn't even know. She smirked again. 'I'm the one who tied the rope around your neck to keep the sack on. Sorry, a bit tight, wasn't it?'  
  
His mouth was hanging open by now. Luckily for Lumille, it was empty.  
  
She spoke of her action against him as casually as if she were telling him what she had had for breakfast. Did she have no morals at all?  
  
'I know. It's sad, isn't it?'  
  
'What's sad?'  
  
'No, scratch that. It's just plain demoralizing, that's what it is. My actions, I mean. How I can just talk about how I kidnapped you and not feel any regret at all.'  
  
Danté hesitated a moment, then nodded. 'That's exactly what I was thinking.'  
  
She gazed absentmindedly at the wall to her left as he finished his meal. After a long pause, she spoke quietly, as if in a trance.  
  
'I killed two people last week. I destroyed another three just an hour ago.'  
  
Danté stayed quiet. He had no idea how to respond to such confessions, from a total stranger no less  
  
'I don't have any hope anymore. I don't have a family, I don't have any friends, I don't have any... feelings. None at all.' She looked to his black eyes. 'You... you have suffered as much as I have. You know what it is to be torn from what can barely be called a family, to see what you call your life fall apart right in front of you, in an instant. I can see it in your eyes. You don't have anything left. Anything.'  
  
'... You know more than you should.' His voice was cold, hard. Talk of family was the last thing he wanted, especially from the one who had him thrown in here in the first place.  
  
She sighed and got up. 'You have no idea how many times I've been told that.' She gazed pointedly at the plate his dinner had once laid on. He looked down and saw a corner of cloth peeking out from under a leaf. He looked up at her in confusion.  
  
'I have only this to say to you, Zora. You'd better not lose hope the way I have, or I'll come after you and eat your children. Don't think I won't.'  
  
She walked out without another word, slamming the door behind her. He waited for the grinding of the lock.  
  
It never came.  
  
*** 


	5. None, Except 'Danté'

Enter legal disclaimer here.  
  
***  
  
Danté couldn't believe it. When he tipped the cloth bag that had been concealed in his dinner, four red and two blue rupees tumbled out with a familiar clinking. 90 rupees -- the 90 rupees they had stolen from him. He looked to the door again. She'd left it unlocked. It wasn't a mistake.  
  
'She wants to help me. She wants me out.'  
  
As he began to stuff the money back into the bag, he realized there was something slipping under the door. When he bent to pick it up, he found it was a scrap of parchment. It read:  
  
'You and I have more in common than you may think. I was also deprived of one of my parents, torn from my family, thrown prematurely into the adult's world. Just make sure you heed my words, and never end up like me. I've got nothing to give to this world. Nothing except you. You have to do something good for the world as your own debt -- I'm asking you to do a second for me. I'd like to think that by giving you back to the world, I've done my 'something good' for this world. Just don't you skip out on me, Zora. I know an excellent recipe for filet of Zora-babies.  
  
Lumille  
  
Ps- Sorry about not returning your handshake. I'd like to think what's on the back of this note is compensation enough. I just don't like slimy hands.'  
  
His eyes widened as he turned the parchment. On the back was a complete and intricately detailed map of the entire fortress, including underwater escape routes and danger zones circled in red. He saw a short note scribbled at the bottom of the map.  
  
'Don't get too antsy to take off yet, Zora. If you leave right after I've seen you, they'll have my ass in a sack. Wait until I give you the sign. Believe me; you'll know it when you see it. Well, you may smell it first.'  
  
He took in a shaky breath and let it out again. If whatever she was planning worked... he would be Danté, the first Zora to ever escape pirate custody.  
  
If only his mother could see him now. His face was grim as he tucked the bag into his pocket.  
  
***  
  
Lumille dashed down the hallway, the stink of burned blood right at her heels. The corridor she left behind her was a symphony of silent agony, with scorched limbs, clothing and hair causing the victims themselves to gag as they suffered in a heap. Lumille absentmindedly wiped her bloodstained hands on her cloak. She had to remind herself over and over why she was doing all of this.  
  
Him. You're doing it for him. Danté. Him.  
  
It had been almost six nights since the visit they had shared, and she knew she had to act quickly, or he would soon starve. His black eyes filled her mind again, and she burst forth with renewed energy.  
  
He needs this. He has a life ahead of him.  
  
His black eyes, icy-blue skin, shiny black hair... it terrified her whenever it occured to her that perhaps, in another place and time, she could have loved him.  
  
'Whatever happened to the 'suffer alone, lose alone' Lumille I grew up with?'  
  
Lumille skidded to a stop, her heart racing. She turned on the spot and saw Aveil leaning against the wall, one foot crossed in front of the other, arms folded across her chest, head down. A hint of a grin danced across her face. She looked up and met Lumille's hard eyes.  
  
'I never thought I'd see the day. Lumille, Miss I'm-too-hurt-inside- to-ever-care, in love. It's better than an opera.'  
  
Lumille, eyes closed, head bowed, was shaking. Her fists were clenched, her fingernails digging into her palms.  
  
'Shut up, Aveil.' She said shakily. 'Just shut up.'  
  
Aveil feigned horror as she stepped back a few steps, holding her hands in front of her as if to stop some attack.  
  
'Whoa! Pretty tough words to come from a little wench.' She smirked, placing her hands on her hips. 'I bet daddy would be sooo proud of you.'  
  
'Don't even, Aveil. Don't even start.'  
  
'What, scared to make daddy proud? Scared he'll 'reward' you some more?'  
  
Lumille was crying now. Aveil's tone was turning more and more vicious with every word.  
  
'I'll bet you loved it. Special alone-time, daddy and daughter.' She began moaning in a high-pitched voice, not sounding much different from a young girl. 'Stop, daddy, no! Daddy, no... it hurts...' She began to laugh. 'What, did you think I didn't know? Ignorant fool. I'll bet those were the best times of your life, just--'  
  
'STOP IT!!' Lumille was crumpled on the ground, her hands covering her head. She looked very much like a helpless child.  
  
'And you want to help people. Idiot. You can't even help yourself.'  
  
Aveil turned and briskly walked down the hall, away from the crying girl. When she came to the end of the hallway, she signaled someone around the corner. Immediately, five purple-clad gerudos came charging down the hall, set to kill. Lumille's head jerked up. If she was going to do it, it had to be now. Without another moment's thought, she stood, turned, and broke into a dead run.  
  
Cannons. I need to get to the cannons. Or he's not got any chances left.  
  
***  
  
Danté knew it was coming. It had to be. It had been six days, and now all this was happening. He heard people running up and down the hall outside his cell, he heard crashes and cries. He smelled blood.  
  
But he knew it wasn't time. It couldn't be, not yet. The sign hadn't come yet.  
  
He couldn't see anyone inside Aveil's room. That had never happened before. There was always someone there to guard the treasures inside. The last person he had seen in there had been Aveil herself, and she had looked fit to tear a tree from the earth, roots and all. He was more thankful than he had ever been in his life he was not the one responsible for her mood.  
  
He paced. He listened. He waited.  
  
Then it came.  
  
The blast.  
  
He bolted to the door, wrenched it open with great difficulty, and never looked back.  
  
***  
  
The entire central tower and building was gone. Lumille almost cried with relief.  
  
She had made it. He was safe. She struggled to look up and out the window. She saw him. He was running where she'd told him to... to the water. The drains would help him escape.  
  
'You'll pay for that one, traitor.'  
  
The five were all surrounding her, leaving her no escape paths. She didn't care.  
  
He was safe.  
  
One guard struck her with the wooden rod of their spear, and Lumille felt her nose snap.  
  
Another took the fine tip of her spear and began to trace intricate patterns on the inside of Lumille's right arm. Her world went white with pain when another pressed down on her nose with her thumb.  
  
The torture didn't last. She was gone before long.  
  
She didn't speak a word throughout the entire ordeal. None, except 'Danté'.  
  
***  
  
He was free. Free.  
  
Danté dove into the ocean and swam faster than he had ever done in his life. Under no circumstances did he ever want to be anywhere near that fortress again.  
  
Well, no circumstances except to get a certain handshake he had missed.  
  
*** 


	6. Paid This Month's Rent

Disclaimer: Claims have been dissed. Happy?  
  
***  
  
It was incredible, just as Danté had always heard told. He had never seen anything like it. The central clock tower peeked over the geometrically painted town wall, the light rotating slowly to shine on all of Termina. Minutes ago, Danté had felt his legs would dissolve if he had had to take another step. The ordeal of his imprisonment in the pirate's fortress had almost completely drained him of all his energy and he hadn't eaten all day. Now, when Danté saw that light shining through the clear night, it felt as if it were almost guiding him to a new life, a second try at what had been stolen from him. He nearly ran forward, all weariness forgotten; the sand was compressing under his feet leaving footprints that he hoped would never again feel his touch.  
  
Then, as he approached the white-blue wall showing the border of the Western Ocean territory, he saw something strange.  
  
There was a small area of plain ground, leading to a ramp. At the top of the ramp... his chest constricted. At the top of the ramp, the ground was green... green as he had never before seen.  
  
His immediate reaction was fear. At the ocean, green had always meant danger, slime, and decay... poison. He wondered if the ground was poisonous. He looked around himself to see if he could find some sort of bridge that led to the town. His heart sank down to the approximate altitude of the soles of his feet. He sank to the ground, pounding one strong fist into the sand. Tears fell freely down his face. He had been so close, so close to a new home, so close to a life of his own. He looked up again. This time, he saw something else.  
  
A stone path leading from the ramp straight to the entrance of the town.  
  
He bolted to his feet, and flung himself over the wall without thinking for a minute. Without looking at what was on the other side, or even the wall itself.  
  
The consequence was catching one of the straps of his pack on the steel spikes rising out of the wall. The strap pulled him back, and next he knew the back of his skull smashed against the strong stone wall. His vision went fuzzy, doubled, then quadrupled. He fell limply to the ground, sand filling his mouth and nostrils.  
  
As all went quiet, he dimly noted several spinning, spiky, green speckled Leevers making their way to his unmoving body.  
  
***  
  
The night was colder than she had anticipated. He rubbed her arms as she backed into the seclusion of the doorway she usually spent her nights working. Most looked down upon her profession; she tried not to think about it. Usually, once a man had begun, he didn't care if she did anything or not, so long as she let him have his way. Unless the man was unusually attractive, she just leaned against the wall and let her mind wander. They never noticed anyway, so long as she moaned every now and then.  
  
Tonight's second and current client was awful with kissing - she highly doubted he was anywhere near sober.  
  
'I haven't paid this month's rent yet...' she thought as she let him go.  
  
By now his hands were on her breasts, pinching and twisting horribly. His pants had dropped long ago, and all that remained was for him to pull off hers before the ordeal began. After he had done so, he took her legs in his hands by just above the knee and slammed her against the wall.  
  
Five minutes later she was leaning against the wall, drawing in another client.  
  
As he pressed money into her hand, she thought 'Well, I've paid it now.'  
  
She didn't care if her job was filthy, or what it did to her - she didn't have very long to go on in any case.  
  
***  
  
Warm, so warm... almost hot. Snapping, crackling... so familiar.. fire. It was fire. He moved his fingers slightly and felt that the cloth draped over him was very coarse - and most likely very inexpensive. He moved to roll over, then bolted upright, his eyes flying open, scanning everywhere for the Leevers. He immediately regretted it, however, as a blinding pain shot through what seemed to be every nerve in his body. He cried out and flopped back down onto what he found was a small, slightly hard bed.  
  
'Good morning to you, too.'  
  
He jumped as a rather tired-looking young woman walked into the room holding her thin blue robe loosely closed at her neck. She had no fins, her skin was a peach color... he decided she must be a human. Danté had only ever met one other before - the merchant who had sold him his trousers. In her other hand was a white mug, its contents steaming. He could tell she had been up much too late the previous night, since her voice was abnormally low, grainy and somewhat irregular. She smiled gently, setting the mug down on the small wooden table beside him. He saw it was what seemed to be very watery soup. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was sardine soup. At least she knew Zora ate only fish.  
  
He gingerly sat up and, wincing, propped himself up against the headboard. He saw she was busying herself with something in the corner with her back to him, and took the opportunity to look about the room from his bed. The bed was pushed into the back left corner, with a small table beside it where his soup rested. The door was right at the foot of the bed, and a small desk and chair were in the front right corner. At the foot of the bed there was a small, beaten up chest of drawers. The only window in the room was so high it almost touched the ceiling, in the center of the wall and so small Danté didn't think he could have fit his head through it. The only curtain was a ragged, maroon cloth stretched on a metal beam above the window.  
  
'What's wrong?'  
  
He looked to the woman. She was frowning, and pointing at the mug. 'Drink your soup. I know it's not much, but you were in a bad way when I found you. Anything is better than nothing.'  
  
Danté took the mug from the table and took a sip. It tasted as watery as it looked.  
  
'Uh...' He struggled to find something to say. 'Miss... Where am I?'  
  
She had dragged the small chair under the window and was standing on it to draw the pathetic drape to the side. A small shaft of sunlight struggled to be seen in the otherwise dark room.  
  
She turned and sat at the foot of the bed.  
  
'Just call me Telia. You're in my flat. It's above the Curiosity Shop, West Clock Town. I was out for a walk in the field when I found you. You were getting ripped apart by some Leevers, and it seemed a Wolfos or two had had some fun with you, too. I saw the tracks in the sand.' Before he could speak, she was pulling the cloth off of him. He would have yanked it back instantly - he saw she had removed both his cape and trousers - if he hadn't been shocked stiff at the damage that had been done to his arms, torso and legs.  
  
The worst were his legs. One long gash stretched from his left hip right down to his ankle - definitely produced by a Wolfos. His right leg was covered in smaller, shallower cuts, most likely from the Leevers. There were enough, however, that if he were to bend his knee he would break open about fifty of them again.  
  
'Did you... did you bring me here?'  
  
'Yeah... you were in pretty bad shape, as I said, so I hiked and toted you back up here. I cleaned all the cuts as soon as I got you into bed, so you don't have to worry about getting horribly infected and disfigured or anything.' She poured a clear, strong-smelling liquid onto a white cloth as she spoke, and Danté's face reddened. 'As soon as I got you into bed,' weren't exactly the words he would have used, but at least she was friendly enough, even if she was a bit... unorthodox. She cleaned his cuts with the cloth as he winced, and she hummed a little tune as she worked.  
  
'What song is that?' he asked, wanting to fill the silence.  
  
'Oh, this. Sorry if it bothers you, it's just a song my father taught me when I was little. He was a minstrel. Didn't pay much, but he loved his work. Mom always hated it when he'd sing at home, said it bothered her rheumatism' She laughed.  
  
'...oh.'  
  
She unscrewed a jar and began spreading a creamy, pale green lotion on his deepest cuts.  
  
'They're both gone now.' She was silent a moment. 'Well? Cough up.' She smiled. 'Where'd you come from?'  
  
He averted his eyes. 'The ocean.'  
  
'I guessed that much when I saw you were a Zora and all. I mean, your folks? What about them?'  
  
He tried to find the best way to answer without telling this stranger too much. 'I was sent away by my mother and brother.' He hesitated. 'They did it because I'm... different.'  
  
'What about your pop?'  
  
'I don't have a father.'  
  
She stopped working and looked at him a moment. '..oh. I'm sorry.'  
  
'That's fine.' he said insincerely. He looked around, wanting to change the subject. 'Where's my stuff, Telia?'  
  
'Oh, I put your bag in one of the drawers over there-' she motioned with her head to the chest of drawers. '-and your guitar is under the bed. That's one nice instrument you've got there, bud.'  
  
'Thanks. It was my father's.'  
  
She squinted at him. 'You just said you didn't have a father.'  
  
'I don't have one worth mentioning. My mother met him, they had some fun, he disappeared. His best friend, my uncle-' he stopped short as the pain of leaving his Uncle came back.  
  
'Let me guess. Your uncle had your dad's guitar and gave it to you.'  
  
'Pretty much.'  
  
'That's rough... I'm sorry again.' She paused. 'What's your name, anyway?'  
  
'Danté.'  
  
'Well, Danté... drink your soup before it gets cold.'  
  
He took a sip and, as he realized how little this woman had just by looking at the room, it was suddenly the best tasting soup he had ever had.  
  
*** 


	7. Errands

Most of this story is mine, save the locations, races, and such. So get your own.  
  
*sings* SITTIN' ON THE CRAPPER WAITIN' FOR SOOOMETHIIING TO HAAAPPEEEEN, BUT NOOOOTHIIIN'S GOOONNAAA HAAAPPEEEN AAAT AAALL, DOODODOODODOO....  
  
Heehee... gotta love MuchMusic commercials.  
  
***  
  
When she saw him, he was leaning against the wall of her usual doorway, his head bowed, arms and feet crossed. She hesitated, then decided he must be the one she was supposed to be meeting... last night's third client had said his friend would be here tonight. She could tell from his silhouette that he was a big man, all muscle; she could also tell that this one wouldn't be a pleasant companion at all. However, she was unfortunately in no position to be picky -- her guest was making her already meager funds stretch much thinner. Still, she couldn't make him leave; she wouldn't trade his cheerful, friendly company for anything anyone else could offer her.  
  
As she approached the man in the doorway, he raised his head, grinning slightly. The glowing moonlight danced on every strand of his silvery blond hair. His gray eyes were calm, in control of everything... yet she could still see the uncontrolled lust flashing behind them, and for the first time in a long time, she was afraid. Afraid of this man, afraid of her job, afraid of her feelings... afraid of everything. Since he had come into her life...  
  
As soon as she reached the doorway, the man's hand flashed out, and in an instant he had her locked against the wall, his big left hand pinning hers above her head, the right slipping a red rupee into her very easily accessible brassiere.  
  
'Make it good for me, whore, and you'll get another.'  
  
She made it good for him. She got another. The only problem was, she also got two things she did not want -- a request for another meeting the following night at ten o'clock sharp, and a severe threat should she disobey.  
  
***  
  
Telia cared for him so relentlessly, Danté almost felt like he was back at home again with his mother by his side. It had not been long since Telia had found him on the beach, and he still couldn't move without some part of him hurting, but the friendship that had formed between them grew as each day's sun rose. During the day, she would stay at home and keep him company, capturing him stories of ancient Termina, fascinating him with her childhood experiences, and entrancing him with her touching, haunting poetry. When he slept during evenings, she would go out and do her errands. He didn't know what her errands could possibly be, since she bought all her meals from the shop a mere minute's walk down the street, and she was sometimes gone for hours at a time. Still, he couldn't remember a single moment he had been awake that she hadn't been by his bedside, and that was all that mattered to him.  
  
'Man, Danté!' Exclaimed Telia as she sat in the small wooden chair in Danté's room, marveling at how nimble his fingers were on the strings of his guitar. It was the sixth week he had been in her care, and he was finally up and about by himself once again. He now sat on the edge of his small bed, feet resting on the ground, his guitar cradled in his arms. His fingers were going a mile a minute, and he felt right at home doing it. 'That's incredible! Are you sure you taught yourself to play this thing?'  
  
'As sure as I'm sitting here now,' he said. He grinned, glancing up at her for a moment before looking back to his guitar, his face set in an expression of concentration, tip of his tongue just sticking out of the corner of his mouth. She was looking lovely as he had ever seen her in a simple blue dress, her hair brushed and tucked neatly behind her ears.  
  
'Wow... that's incredible,' she murmured again, shaking her head. 'And I was proud when I repaired your trousers without losing a finger.'  
  
He laughed, and placed his guitar back under the bed, glancing out the window at the moon. She followed his gaze, and her eyes widened when she saw the dark sky.  
  
'Oh!' She shot out of her seat and crossed the room in one step. She leaned out his bedroom door, one hand clasped around the door frame, one leg stuck straight out in the air behind her to keep her balance. When she saw the time on the large, geometrically painted wooden clock on the wall she cried out again.  
  
'Oh NO!' She ran to her room and pushed the door closed behind her. Danté was still sitting on his bed, shocked at her sudden change in behavior. He stood and leaned his head out the door of his room, frowning.  
  
'...Telia?' He called as he walked down the narrow hallway to her bedroom. There was no answer, but he could tell from the sounds he could hear that she was definitely in a hurry. As he reached her room he saw that her door was slightly ajar. He placed a hand on it and pushed it open the rest of the way.  
  
'Telia, what--' She cut him off when she whisked around, hurriedly pulling a black cloak closed. She pushed him aside and ran for the door, calling over her shoulder that she'd be back in an hour, because she had an errand she'd forgotten.  
  
The door slammed behind her. Danté waited a moment, then opened it and began to move down the stairs, following her out the back door of the Curiosity Shop.  
  
'That's not enough, Telia,' he thought to himself. 'I want to know just what these 'errands' are.'  
  
***  
  
'You're late,' he growled.  
  
'I know,' she cooed, backing against the wall of the doorway, dropping her cloak to the ground and pulling him to her. 'I'm here now, however.' She leaned forward and purred into his ear. 'Make me scream, and I guarantee you'll never think of another woman again.' He grunted in response pushed her against the wall as roughly as he had the night before. His breath reeked of alcohol, and she performed a moan to disguise a gag.  
  
He entered her roughly, and she tried not to wince. This was all she could do to support the two of them...  
  
Once he had finished, she pretended to smile in satisfaction.  
  
'You've had yours, sugar. Now... where's mine?'  
  
His head flew up. Drunken rage flashed in his eyes. He grabbed her hands and pinned then as he had the night before, only this time instead of tucking a rupee into her brassiere, his right hand was clasped tightly around her neck. She tried to kick out, but her legs were pinned against the wall by his. He grinned horribly.  
  
'Your what, sweetheart? I don't recall ever owing you anything... or do I perhaps owe you a broken bone or two?'  
  
She opened her mouth to scream, but her air intake was completely cut off by his powerful hand. All she could do was stare wide-eyed, gaping silently at him as he bent two of her fingers backward above her head. They snapped with two sickening cracks, one right after the other. Tears were now flooding her eyes, and she squeezed them shut; there was nothing she could do to help herself.  
  
His hand was already entwined in her hair, yanking it backward when she heard an odd thump through her muffled gasps and cries. She opened her eyes to see the man sinking to the ground, out cold, his face blank. She stared at him on the ground a moment, then looked up. Him... there he was in battle position, legs bent, head down, arms outstretched. His fins flew back into place after a moment and he straightened, his face solemn, his black eyes unblinking as they stared into hers.  
  
'... Telia.'  
  
She wanted to think of something to say but couldn't, so she didn't say anything at all. She simply flung her arms weakly around his shoulders, and cried.  
  
He knew exactly what he wanted to say but couldn't, so he didn't say anything at all. He simply placed his arms softly around her and held her as she cried.  
  
*** 


	8. Now And Always

***  
  
He winced more than she did as he tightly but carefully wrapped her broken fingers in a strip of soft white cloth taken from his pack. She hadn't said a word since he had found her in the alleyway she had spent all that time in, secretly supporting them both through the darkest of professions. He hadn't exactly tried to make conversation, either - he was afraid that if he so much as opened his mouth in the slightest, what would escape would only make matters worse. He had lived a sheltered childhood, it was true, but he knew, just from the few moments he had seen of her at work in the alley, what she did during her almost nightly 'errands'. He also knew she was wearing thin - he had noticed an odd pattern in her behavior of late, almost a decline in her usually joyful, spirited nature. She had obviously been doing this before she had taken him in, and she had also obviously been doing this far too long; it was visibly taking its toll. She was far less talkative, and sometimes he would look up, smiling at her from his bed to see her simply gazing at his face, or even at nothing at all, here eyes glazed over, face expressionless. She did it even now, staring blankly at the middle and ring fingers of her right hand as they were wrapped together in the cloth.  
  
She was wearing her cloak tightly closed as he worked. He wondered slightly about how she had hurriedly closed it as they had entered the light of her rooms from the dark street, but did not think it wise to ask just now. Her face was tearstained and dirty, blood from her fingers smeared along her right cheek. Although she seemed somewhat worse for wear, her eyes were still as green as ever... but his heart was saddened as he saw that nearly all the joyful sparkle he had once thought so lovely was gone. All he wanted was for her to be happy again, like she had been in all the time he had been in her care. All he wanted... was for her pain to stop.  
  
Then, suddenly, like a key turning in a lock, something clicked in his mind.  
  
'...Telia...'  
  
She winced, though not from any physical pain. 'Please, Danté... don't ask me any questions yet. Please.'  
  
Her voice was odd, irregular, and grainy - not unlike what she had sounded like the first time he had heard her speak. However, this time, it was not caused by tiredness, but from the fact that she hadn't spoken in hours. 'But I...' He abruptly cancelled his sentence when he saw a small tear trail down her cheek. There was a short silence.  
  
He put his right hand on her shoulder. Her eyes looked up into his. He saw they were bright, but not from joy. More tears were threatening to fall as she turned away from him, furiously wiping them away. He tried to make her look at him, but she wouldn't. When she refused, he gently tilted her chin to look at him with the index finger of his left hand. When her eyes met his again, she saw something different in them, something more than simple sympathy, something he hadn't been showing her before. Something she was shocked to find she was in total agreement with.  
  
When he leaned forward and kissed her softly, there was no resistance. She did not push him away, but also made no move to hold him. Everything she had said she would never do, everything she knew she could never have, it was all happening right then, and she didn't know what to think. She had known for days this truly was what she had wanted all this time, but then again, he didn't know what she did. She wanted to pull away, to stop before she was past the point of being able to, but his strong hand holding her, moving on her back, it was all making her forget. When he held her cheek in his left hand, she couldn't help but place her hand over his.  
  
His right hand on her shoulder slowly slipped down her arm, coming to rest on her side, just below her breast. When she pulled away from him softly, she looked into his eyes, still mere inches away. Her breathing came in short, shallow pants. Her chest heaved. She could feel her heart pounding, the sound ringing in her ears. When she moved to him and their lips met again, the kiss was hot, deep, passionate. His hand left her cheek and instead entwined itself in her hair, pulling her closer to him.  
  
She had done such things on more occasions and with more partners than she could count, but it had never felt like this before. Other times, it had been for duty, for life, for survival. This time, it was for lust, for need, for longing. She finally gave in to his embrace, wrapping one arm around his waist, the other around his neck. Her uninjured fingers toyed with the fine black hairs at the base of his skull. A small sound escaped her throat, and the kiss intensified.  
  
Why shouldn't she just do this? After all, she wanted him so badly, and he certainly seemed to be feeling the same way. Anyway, it wasn't guaranteed he would be affected. Was she to die without being granted just one night, one time when it would be real? Was she to now be denied everything she gave so willingly to others? Her hand came from behind his neck and slid down to his chest. He pulled her closer, their kiss deepening still.  
  
She was nearly beyond the point of no return when, with a sudden jolt, she remembered. He didn't know what she did.  
  
He didn't know.  
  
Reality slammed back into her brain. The world crashed violently back all around her. She pulled away from him almost roughly, her panicked eyes staring into his face. His sharp features, the angle of his nose, the line of his chin, the black hair and stubble that made him so special to her... she took in everything about his beautiful face. She had never cared for anyone like she did for Danté. How could she have almost done that to him? What was she thinking? She pulled back further, sitting upright on her stool. She cleared her throat and looked away from his eyes, motioning for him to finish wrapping her fingers.  
  
'I... can't.' she said softly.  
  
He said nothing, only went back to his work at the table.  
  
'...It's because of your... occupation.' It wasn't a question, merely a statement. A statement that hadn't been said rudely or bitterly, just with a calm, understanding tone.  
  
She did not answer.  
  
'...Please tell me,' he asked softly. 'Please tell me... what is wrong here. Tell me why you have to live like this.'  
  
Immediately after he had spoken, Telia slammed her uninjured hand on the table they had been sitting at, sharply tearing her other hand away from his grasp and standing abruptly. The small, three-legged stool on which she had been sitting flew across the tiled floor with a clatter.  
  
'What do you mean, why I have to 'live like this'?!' she shouted, her tan, jaw-length hair flying everyway. 'It was no choice I made, Danté! It's not as if I awoke one morning with a sudden desire to sell myself and my sin to the pigs that roam these streets once the sun has died!!'  
  
Her reaction shocked him so that he barely noticed the inch-long gash her fingernails had dug into the back of his hand when her damaged hand had been torn away.  
  
'Is it my fault my parents died when I was just a girl? Is it my fault I have no training, no education for anything?! They left me with nothing. Nothing! And soon I'll have... nothing.' She had been shouting in the beginning, but by the time she reached the last word, her speaking was barely audible, little more than a whisper.  
  
Tears were freely falling from her eyes as she stood with her back to him.  
  
'And soon... you won't, either.'  
  
What? What could she mean by that? He didn't have anything... all he had was her. Her. His whole world came to a screeching halt. No, she couldn't possibly... possibly mean that. But, what if she did? No, no, she couldn't... but, still...  
  
'Telia...' There was a sense of fear in his voice, an urgency she could no longer hide from. She turned to face him, the embodiment of hopelessness and total despair. Tears still flowing, she slowly undid her cloak, never once meeting his eyes. What lay underneath shocked him more than she could ever know.  
  
Her breasts were held outrageously high, exposed and visible by a shaped, shiny black brassiere. However, instead of having two separate straps going over her shoulders, the two straps that were there connected to a black collar around her neck, leaving her back bare, save a sheer, filmy, pale pink material that was also attached to the bottom seam of the brassiere, and two black rings around her upper arms. The result was an odd, half-visible shirt, which left little to the imagination. Covering her lower half was a pair of skin-tight pale pink shorts, but cut to such a height that they covered little more than her undergarments would have. Overtop was a diagonally cut, above knee-length skirt made from the same flowy material as the shirt. Dark pink heels and a thin black satin ribbon tied around her left thigh topped the whole outfit off. The whole of it granted her little class.  
  
Danté was stunned speechless. He didn't know what he could say. He simply stayed silent, overwhelmed with such pity as he had never felt before.  
  
She was looking straight at him, now. The tears hadn't ceased.  
  
'I'm a prostitute, Danté. I sell myself three, four, five times a night. I have been doing so for over five winters, since I was fourteen.' Her voice was now just a feathery whisper. 'My kind is never safe, but not just from the brutes like the one you saw tonight.' She paused, drawing a deep breath to calm her quivering voice. 'There are also natural punishments for us. Diseases that are passed through our whole community.'  
  
What she said next was such a low whisper that it was barely comprehensible through all of her sobs, but Danté caught every word.  
  
'I have one of these diseases, Danté. That's why I can't... I couldn't do that to you. Danté... I don't know how much longer I have.'  
  
She stood there, immobile a moment, before letting out a long, mournful sob and sinking to the ground, her face covered with her arms. The sobs she had been hiding for so long racked her body mercilessly now, and she looked so much like a little lost girl that Danté nearly wept himself. He didn't know what to do. Should he touch her, tell her it would be alright, or would he only anger her again? He did not have to wonder long, because soon her sobs were diminishing and a faint whisper could be heard.  
  
'Danté... I'm sorry. Please... just hold me? Just for tonight?'  
  
He stood and helped her stand. He held her shoulders in his hands and held her at arm's length, his eyes never leaving hers. He held a finger to her lips.  
  
'No, Telia.' He smiled softly. 'Not just for tonight. Now and always.'  
  
She broke down and placed her arms around his waist, her head resting on his chest as her tears fell. She slowly smiled up at him for a moment through her tears.  
  
'...Now and always.'  
  
*** 


	9. A Light In The Darkness

Hey all... time for a shameless plug! Hey, I'm allowed. It's my story.  
  
For those of you that haven't already seen, there is a Black Thorn website in the works. I made it because I was actually asked by a few people why I hadn't yet. This was a bit surprising to me, but I did because it sounded like fun. Anyway, I figure that if you're still here by chapter 9, then you must enjoy this story at least a little, so maybe you'll be nice and go have a looksee. It's got all the current chapters of Black Thorn uploaded, a Guestbook, Forum, Live Journal I'm still getting set up, and will soon have a Black Thorn art gallery, since that's what I've been drawing most as of late. It will also have my other art, if you're curious.  
  
www.senkelliasblackthorn.cjb.net  
  
Go there, and go nuts. Oh, and the shameless plug spot is now up for rent. Want a shameless plug at the beginning of a Black Thorn chapter? Ask me nicely, and you can! Hee. ^^;;  
  
(end shameless plug)  
  
*****  
  
When Danté awoke, he could hear Telia scampering about outside his room, dashing up the hall, then down, and then up again, muttering incomprehensibly to herself. He rubbed his eyes as he stretched, finally pulling himself out of bed. He hadn't felt her wake up. She had slept next to him that night, her back to his front, his arm over her. She said she hadn't been able to sleep in her room, and to be truthful he had needed some company almost as much as she.  
  
Just as he was approaching his bedroom door, it burst open. Telia rushed in, poking her nose in every nook and cranny of the room, as if looking for something the size of a kernel of corn.  
  
'...Telia...?'  
  
Danté's brain was still fuzzy with tiredness as he spoke. His voice seemed almost like it was far away.  
  
'Hm?' It was all she said as she continued to bustle about the room.  
  
'Uh... what are you doing?'  
  
She didn't look up as she spoke, just kept looking around with the same speed. 'Packing your things, of course. It wasn't really all that difficult, since you already had everything so nicely organised in that cabinet. I've packed you a bit of a lunch too, so--'  
  
'What do you mean, packing my things?' Suspicion was rising in him now, replacing the tiredness as his head grew a little clearer.  
  
She finally turned around and looked at him for the first time since the night before from across the small bedroom.  
  
'Well, you are leaving, aren't you? I mean, there's no real reason for you to stay with me anymore.' She said all this rather quickly, as if she had rehearsed it beforehand and was nervous of making a mistake. She motioned his body, up and down, with a slight wave of her hand. 'You're all healed up,' she continued, 'and I don't think you want to live with some dying prostitute in a cheap flat over an illegal shop. That's just silly. You came here to start over, and you don't need me mucking you up from the start.'  
  
She said this without a trace of bitterness. Her attitude was totally different from the night before. Then, she had been alone, afraid, ashamed of herself and in desperate need of help. Now, literally overnight, she had become cold, unfeeling, and totally unaffected by her own less-than- sensitive words. She seemed almost defiant, as if daring the world to throw her another curveball.  
  
Danté didn't know what to do. She didn't really want him to leave, after all. They both knew it. This added up to Danté's theory: she thought he wanted to leave since now he couldn't 'get some'. That thought immediately filled him with such a need to correct her that it almost made him physically hurt.  
  
By the time all this had processed through his groggy zoran brain, Telia had already skittered off to the kitchen to fix him some breakfast. Danté numbly made his way to the kitchen and plunked down into his usual chair. She hummed in an unusually chipper manner for the morning as she slipped crackling fish from the frying pan straight to the chipped white china plate in front of him. As she reached across the table for the salt after replacing the frying pan onto the burner, his hand shot out and caught her by the wrist. She froze, momentarily stunned.  
  
'I'm not leaving.' She didn't move, didn't respond.  
  
He didn't have anything else to say, so he simply gently pecked the back of her hand before beginning what looked to be a sumptuous breakfast.  
  
She slowly made her way back to the opposite side of the square table at which he sat and sank into the chair that stood there. Danté kept right on eating, since the matter was, to him, already settled. He wasn't going to just leave her here, alone, that was certain. He could help her, he knew it. Maybe he could find himself a small job. Then she wouldn't have to work the way she did until-- no, anymore.  
  
He had just caught himself before he thought, 'until she died'. He refused to think about that. As far as he was concerned, she wasn't dying at all. She may as well have told him she was an immortal goddess.  
  
Of course, to him she already was.  
  
***  
  
Telia didn't put up much of a fight to make Danté leave.  
  
She didn't really want him to go... it was just that looking at him made her want to cry. All she could ever see shining back at her from those black eyes was a happy future with someone she truly cared about that she could never have. She had wondered for a long time the previous night, as she had lain awake with her back pressed against him, about what their children may have looked like. Of course, one would be a little human boy with black hair not unlike his father's, and a passion for swimming that wasn't too surprising. The other was a little zoran girl with hair like her father's, thick, straight and flowing, but instead of being black it was a familiar shade of tan.  
  
Telia was surprised at herself for thinking of children with a strange sort of longing. Before Danté had come into the picture, the very notion of children had made Telia shudder. Now her attitude was changed completely. Now she desired them almost as much as she desired Danté. She wanted them simply because they would be Danté's. They would be his, just like she would be.  
  
She wanted more than anything to be able to just be like everyone else, to be able to give herself to Danté forever, the way she knew she could.  
  
Telia wondered sometimes at her childish imagination. One kiss, one that for all she knew had meant nothing to him, and here she was, fantasizing about marriage and children and a future for herself. Anyway, it wasn't important whether or not the kiss had mattered... she had already told him nothing could ever happen between them; the damage was done. Looking back at the previous night now, she felt something close to humiliation. She had told him nothing could ever happen between them... what had made her think he'd even wanted to? What had made her think anyone would want to? She was just merchandise, a brief amusement for sale. That was all she was, and that was all she would ever be. She didn't have enough time do to otherwise.  
  
It seemed so hopeless to her.  
  
She was just grateful she had a light to guide her through the darkness... a light that apparently wasn't going anywhere.  
  
***  
  
'Lord, that was delicious. Why haven't you made that before?' Danté leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach contentedly. Telia shrugged slightly, still half lost in thought.  
  
'I suppose... I suppose I thought I would do something special, since I thought...' her voice trailed off, and she seemed to sink back into her own mind. He looked at her for a moment before standing and taking his dishes to the sink.  
  
'Well, it was fabulous.' He moved to the door, taking his cape from the hook beside it, and returning to her. 'I haven't really seen much of the town at all, and I've been here almost seven weeks. Pretty sad, when you think about it, huh?' He gave a cheerful chuckle before pecking her lightly on the cheek and walking down the hall. 'I'll be back in a little while, Tel.' he called over his shoulder as he disappeared out the door.  
  
She sat there long after the door had clicked shut, nearly unblinking. One hand was lightly touching the place where his lips had graced her cheek. The other lay limply in her lap.  
  
It just wasn't fair.  
  
She loved him.  
  
***** 


	10. Perfect Lullaby

Holy crap... it was so incredibly hard to write this chapter, and you can probably really tell. I think Senkel's going through some writer's block... Damn.

* * *

Considering how turbulent the last 12 hours of his life had been, Danté walked with quite a spring in his step as he climbed the stairs of West Clock Town. He was filled with the same excitement he had felt when he had first seen the town light shining on the horizon. The late morning sun was shining on him, and the air had a touch of chill, but was also somewhat humid. The early morning market bustle had cleared up to give way to pleasure walkers and postmen, and children played, unafraid, in the streets. The overall effect filled Danté with such a feeling that, before he had left the Zoras, he'd felt only when he'd played his guitar for hours. Now, as he wandered the streets, taking in all the smiles and laughter and different faces, he felt he had never been better off. He had a pleasant home, his best friend as his hostess, and he lived in a wonderful city.  
  
All he needed now was work.  
  
All around him, men and women were calling to him about their various wares. He almost didn't know where to look. At every side they were there, drawing his attention, if not vocally then with their bright, welcoming signs. He wondered if the whole town was this way. He looked about him, and saw something odd... a sign over an enormous gateway. He made his way to it, and saw a sign beside it.  
  
**_This way to Terminian Waters  
_**  
'Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but that is where you are from, is it not?'  
  
Danté jumped, and turned to his right side. There, a town guard was just coming out of the shadows of the gate. Danté wondered how he hadn't even seen him before. Not wanting to seem rude, he spluttered a quick 'yes'. The guard smiled.  
  
'Ah, a lovely place, the Ocean. I've seen it only once. I was just a child.'  
  
'Uh... that's nice.' said Danté, a bit awkwardly. He hadn't expected conversation from the townsfolk this quickly. The guard looked around before leaning forward slightly, beckoning Danté closer with one finger. Danté obliged.  
  
'I saw what you did last night, son. Saving that girl.' Danté felt an odd cross between fear and pride. 'I just thought I'd tell you that what that girl does, her job, that's illegal. She could be arrested for that.' At these words, Dant's blood ran cold. 'I haven't said anything to her yet, though,' continued the guard, 'because I know it's all she's got. All she has going for her. I've seen where you two live. Not exactly a nice place. I just hope that you're going to do something about her life. Why, you wonder? Because now that job is NOT all she has. So you'd better do your duty and help her, young man. Because if I see her around here again doing what she does, I won't hold my tongue.' The guard leaned back again, and smiled as big as before. 'The weather IS lovely, isn't it?'  
  
'Uh... yes, yes it is.'  
  
'Well, best be on your way...?'  
  
'Danté.'  
  
'On your way, Danté, or you'll never get anything done today! So long.' The guard then gave a hearty laugh.  
  
Danté turned and walked away as quickly as he could without seeming out of place.

* * *

'Sorry, nothing here, son. If you'd come maybe a week or two ago...'  
  
'Well, I've got one position left, but it involves a shower room floor, soap, and a toothbrush.'  
  
'Yes, I've got something... tell me, do you enjoy life-threatening encounters with rabid Wolfos in enclosed spaces? Oh, what am I saying, who doesn't??'  
  
Danté was beginning to lose any hope of finding any employment in this town. Most of the answers were the same, but occasionally he came across one or two that he had to bite his tongue so as not to laugh in their faces. Even the postal office didn't need any help. The postman seemed a bit off his rocker to Danté, so he didn't really mind that so much.  
  
As Danté wandered the streets, his hope the main casualty of the morning, he found himself at a place called the laundry pool. He looked down into the water for a moment, and within seconds his trousers and cape lay abandoned on the grass as he sank into the water. He hadn't been totally underwater since he'd left the ocean, and he'd felt the effect in his general temperament. He'd been more tired, less energetic, and felt generally dehydrated. As he slid further into the water, it was like the difference between night and day. Almost instantly he felt alive again. He rested his head against the brick wall and closed his eyes as he let himself float on the surface of the water. Danté didn't know how long he'd floated there, but his eyes were brought sharply open by the sound of a shrill shriek. He immediately turned to see a woman covering her face with an open red umbrella.  
  
'S-sorry!' she stammered. 'I- I didn't mean to-'  
  
Danté could almost see the steam rising from his face as he scrambled to dress.  
  
'No, no, I'm sorry, I- I lost track of time. I didn't... uh...'  
  
She tentatively lowered the umbrella halfway down her face. He could see she had red hair, just slightly edged with gray and big blue eyes. She couldn't have been older than forty years old.  
  
'I'm Anju.' Without lowering the umbrella any further, she mechanically thrust a widespread hand out, as if afraid he might actually shake it. He did, and smiled kindly at her. She was obviously still somewhat startled at finding a blue man floating in her laundry water.  
  
'Danté.' He smiled more widely. 'You can put that umbrella down, Anju, I don't bite.'  
  
She examined him again a moment before slowly closing the umbrella. Once she'd done this, he could see she was wearing a white button up, long- sleeve blouse with purple embroidery around the neckline, sleeve hems and bottom edge of the blouse. Her skirt was a wispy, light-looking three- quarter-length purple wrap, with white embroidery in the same jagged patterns as the purple on the blouse around the bottom hem. Purple open-toe high-heel shoes finished the color-coordinated look, and showed her to be a woman of high standing. She was a very attractive woman, even in her age, and she seemed to have deemed Danté as somewhat safe, as she was inching her way closer so as to reach the water. He stepped back and held his arms toward the water, inviting her to help herself. She did so quite quickly, kneeling by the water and opening up her bundle of clothing.  
  
'Do you mind if I have a seat?' he asked, indicating the grass beside her. She shook her head, but said nothing. He took this as permission granted, and sat down cross-legged by the water.  
  
'So, Anju, was it?'  
  
'Mm-hmm. You're... Danny?' She continued washing as she spoke.  
  
'Um, no, Danté. Have you lived here long?'  
  
'Used to live here.'  
  
'...oh. Um.. why did you leave?'  
  
'I got married. He lived with his parents and I lived in just a small room, so we decided to get a whole new place of our own. We moved to the farming land out past Milk Road.'  
  
Danté decided he'd just pretend he knew where that was.  
  
'That's nice... do you run a farm, or just live in the area?'  
  
By now she had finished on what seemed to be her clothing, and was now washing a man's shirt.  
  
'We've got a ranch. It used to be run by the family that founded it, but the girls that used to run it must've gotten sick of the farming life; they practically gave it to us. I don't know where they are now... our daughter enjoys the ranch life, though. Adores horses. Do you like horses, Danny?'  
  
'It's Danté, Miss. And yes, I think they're very nice.' Danté wondered if he could find work with this Anju woman. After all, what ranch couldn't use a bit of help here and there, right? And she seemed kind enough... a bit slow in the mind, or maybe just a bad listener, but kind just the same.  
  
'Uh... pardon the intrusion, but do you, by chance, need any help around your ranch, Ms Anju? I just came to Clock Town, and haven't had much luck finding work, so...'  
  
He waited hopefully. She paused in her washing, and seemed to size him up for a moment.  
  
'Well... we could use some help with the deliveries we make to town...' Dant's excitement rose. 'We always make them in the middle of the night, so there are fewer rotten folk waiting around town to jump our wagon before we can get the milk safely inside the bar... but the trip is still rather dangerous for our daughter... My husband used to go with her, but it's just getting to be too much for him to stay out so late and do so much around the ranch, too... Well, Danny, if you're looking to work, come down to the ranch tonight for 5:30 to drive the wagon to town with my daughter and husband. You won't have to do much, so don't worry. We just need you to sit there and look imposing so that people don't touch the wagon. I imagine a man on the wagon will be a bit more intimidating than just our girl, and she could use the company anyway... there aren't many people way out where we live, and the wagon trips can get lonely. We make our usual deliveries every Tuesday and Thursday, but we'll try you out just for tonight and talk about it from there. If you do well, we'll hire you as a regular. If we decide to hire you, you stay overnight at the ranch after the deliveries and we give you a ride back to town in the morning. Sound alright to you?'  
  
Danté was trying very hard not to jump up and dance. He had a work trial, and the job wasn't even all that difficult! Just ride a wagon four times a week, and he'd even get a look at some of the world around the town as well.  
  
'It sounds fantastic to me.'  
  
'Good.' She smiled in a way that made him feel he was her son  
  
'I'll see you at 5:30, then, Ms Anju?' he asked as he stood, anxious to tell Telia the good news.  
  
'Absolutely, Danny.'  
  
'Um... Danté.'  
  
'What?'  
  
'Never mind.'

* * *

'A job? At a ranch?' She looked doubtful. 'Danté, are you sure you want to? I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to... I make enough for both of us to get by.'  
  
'I don't deny you do, Telia, but it's getting to be too hard on you. I can see it. You don't need to be out at crazy hours of the night to feed me when I can support us just fine myself.'  
  
She didn't seem convinced, but didn't say anything else. She simply pursed her lips and crossed her arms in a way that reminded Danté of his mother. He didn't want to tell her about the guard he'd seen that afternoon. He didn't quite know why - he just knew he didn't want her to know about it. Maybe it would embarrass her to know that someone had been watching her. Maybe it would upset her. Still, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she stopped working. Even if maybe she now made more than he would with his potential job, he didn't want her in danger anymore. He'd find a way to make it up.  
  
'Oh! I almost forgot to tell you!' said Telia, her mood changing instantly from black to white. 'A few friends of mine will be coming to visit tonight... I've told them all about you, and they want to meet you. They're about ready to disown me; I haven't let them come by in ages because I didn't want them to disturb you.'  
  
'But... Telia, my job tryout is tonight... I just told you.'  
  
She smiled. 'I know. They want to meet you so badly, and if you're not around the first time they've come here in seven weeks, it will up your mystique! None of them have ever met a Zora before. You're going to be diary-worthy material, I guarantee it.' He chuckled as she giggled slightly and headed to the bathroom. 'I'm in the bath. If you have to go during the next half hour, you'll just have to hop around for a while until I'm done.'  
  
He laughed and went to his bedroom. He needed to catch some sleep before going to his work trial. He wanted to be at his best.  
  
Through the wall, he could hear Telia humming happily in the next room as the tub filled. Her tune was somewhat off-key.  
  
He couldn't help but smile. It was the perfect lullaby.


	11. Wine is an Interesting Beverage

HOLY GOD. AN UPDATE. Took me long enough, huh? Pleeeze, forgive meee...

* * *

'TELIAAA!!!'

The shrill, joyful cry echoed through the whole street, and Telia wouldn't have been surprised if the gorons of Snowhead registered a complaint in the morning. She managed to get out half a hello before being smothered in a cloud of curly red hair. Mika had always been the loudest member of their little group.

'For God's sake, Mika, I'm glad to see you too, but get off!!' Telia couldn't help but laugh at her friend's childish joy. The four visitors filed in, each greeting Telia in their own way as they passed her. Mika was first, dragging behind her a seemingly exasperated Lief. He briefly smiled at Telia before being yanked the rest of the way through the doorway. Thordan followed, giving Telia a gentle hug and a little wink, his lengthened eyelashes framing his perfectly lined baby-blue eyes in a way that had always made Telia fume with jealousy. Last was Jade, who, as always, immediately found his way into the kitchen cupboards.

'Don't hesitate to find yourself something to eat, okay Jade?' she said sarcastically.

'Wouldn't dream of it!' was heard from the kitchen. His voice was slightly muffled - apparently he'd already found the little cakes she'd hoped (apparently in vain) to keep hidden from him.

Telia sighed, smiling slightly, and led her guests into the kitchen table, inviting them to sit. She fetched a freshly made pot of tea, five teacups and a tray of little biscuits. To her right sat Thordan, one leg bent with the foot propped on the edge of the table, his hands folded neatly in his lap. Across from her, Mika sat in Lief's lap, his head resting on her shoulder, arms around her waist. Telia couldn't help but feel proud of them - their relationship had survived almost four years, in spite of many hardships and two sets of difficult parents. Telia had always somewhat envied the perfection that was the two of them together. She tried very hard not to think of Danté as she poured their tea.

'So!' said Mika in an excited whisper. 'Where's the new aquatic specimen?' Her eyes were bright with anticipation. As Telia glanced at her other friends, she noticed they were all listening very intently. Lief, who had been in the middle of reaching across the table to take a cup of tea, had frozen. They wanted to know, but didn't want to seem immaturely impatient. She had to try very hard not to giggle as she replied that he was not at home, and wouldn't be all night. Four sets of shoulders collectively sagged.

'Aww... how come?' Mika whined. 'I wanted to meet him!' There were nods all around the table.

'Well, if you must know, he's at a job interview.'

'Ooooh!' said Thordan teasingly. 'A working man!'

'I suppose he's up to scratch on the Thordometer, then?'

'Oh, not yet! I have to see him first, you know.'

'Ah. Thordan, a visual man through and through.'

'When it comes to boys, is any better way to be?'

Telia laughed, her eyes sparkling. She hadn't been with people she could love in a long time.

* * *

The repetitive 'clip-clop' of the wagon horse's hooves were the only sound to be heard as Danté sat, picking at a small hole in his trousers. He chanced a glance over at the girl beside him - she was staring very hard at the road in front of them. He hadn't expected Kellie to be so shy. They had been riding almost twenty minutes, and barely a word had been spoken. He supposed she'd never met a Zora before. He looked up at the moon, full and pale.

He wondered if Telia was having a good time. He hoped so. She deserved a fun night, after all the hard work she'd gone through helping him. He wondered if he'd be back in time to meet her friends. He hoped that was so, too. As much as Danté enjoyed Telia's company, he wanted to meet other people as well.

'Hello? You alive?'

Danté blinked. 'What?'

Kellie giggled quietly. 'I asked if you could pass me a bottle of water from inside the wagon, please.'

'Oh. Oh, Sure.'

'Thank you.'

As Danté passed it to her, he saw she had a long, thin white scar along the length her thumb. After a moment or two of hesitation, he decided to ask.

'Kellie, if you don't mind my asking, what's that from?' He indicated her thumb.

'What? Oh, that? Leevurs don't like me, let's leave it at that. It's kind of an embarrassing story.'

'Oh. Well, you got off easy, take a look at this.' He rolled up his shirt sleeve and showed her all the small cuts on his arm that were just disappearing. Her eyes widened.

'Whoa! What happened to you?'

'Apparently they don't like me much, either.'

'Oh. Gotcha.'

The silence resumed. Well, at least he'd had what could be called a conversation with her. He didn't think he wasn't doing well enough to get this job, and began to accustom himself to the idea that he wasn't going to get it. She spoke again, breaking the silence.

'So, how'd they get you?'

'Huh?'

'The Leevurs. They must've had an unfair advantage to get you _that_ bad.'

'Oh... well, I was.. a little unconscious.' Danté felt his face grow hot and he smiled a little.

She chuckled. 'I guess yours is sort of embarrassing, too.'

'Yeah.'

They both laughed quietly.

'Well, you told me yours. I guess I have to tell you mine?'

'Sure, if you want.'

'Well, I was seven, and decided I wanted one for a pet. It didn't go over too well with the Leevur.' She thought for a moment. 'Or my parents, come to think of it. I guess that's why you're supposed to ask before hiding sharp, pointy, aggravated monsters in your bedroom.'

They both laughed again. This time, the laughter was genuine. He looked over, smiling. She was smiling, too, and this time, she met his eyes.

Maybe this wouldn't go so badly, after all.

* * *

Giggles were flowing as abundantly as the wine from the bottle they shared as Telia and her friends found even the simplest things hysterically funny. At the moment they were still giddy over Thordan's story of his first kiss. Apparently he'd kissed the girl's eyelid because she moved.

'And _THAT_, my friends,' said Thordan, wine spilling from the bottle in his hands as he waved his arms about, 'is why I no longer favor the ladies.' He took another drink before adding, 'Except Mika. Mika's pretty.' This was followed by a suggestive eyebrow wiggle in her direction from Thordan and gales of laughter from the rest of the group.

'Hey man,' said Lief in an oddly slurred way, 'if you wanna piece of _MY_ girl, you owe me _BIGTIME_.'

'_Your_ girl?' Mika's voice was exaggeratedly high and indignant. 'I'll have you know that you're _my _boy.'

'Whatever you say, Princess.'

'Aw, I love you snookums.'

'I love you more.'

These statements gave way to a rather sloppy, noisy kiss, thus inducing more laughter. After the kiss ended, Mika noticed the others laughing and joined in. She laughed so hard she slipped off Lief's lap and landed on the wooden floor with a somewhat painful sounding thump. Telia had tears in her eyes and had developed a rather painful set of the hiccups by this time. She stood and excused herself with a wave of her hand, retreating to the bathroom. The others continued joking and laughing, but Thordan noticed her shoot a significant look in his direction and followed her.

'What's up?' he asked, closing the door as she poured herself a glass of water. 'Anything wrong?'

She looked at him, unsure of what exactly she wanted from him. She knew he could make her feel better, but she didn't know if she wanted to tell him everything. She bought herself some time as she took a rather long drink of water. He raised his eyebrows at her.

'You want him, don't you?'

Telia choked on her water. She stared at him, coughing, amazed. Apparently Thordan could sober up very quickly when he wanted to.

'What? What makes you... you never... I don't...' Thordan smiled gently.

'I could just tell. The way you looked when you talked about him... why else would you have kept him here, anyway? You've never been this hospitable, not even to me.' She smiled slightly, but said nothing. Thordan thought a moment. Then he said- 'You really care for him, don't you?' She stared at the floor for a moment, then nodded, almost ashamed. Thordan motioned for her to sit, and she did so, climbing into the dry bath, leaning her chin on her arms on the edge of the tub. He then turned almost businesslike, crossing his arms over his chest and his legs at the ankles, leaning on the bathroom sink.

'Well, here's the way I see it. You... _like_ this man, yes?' She nodded without hesitation. 'And he likes you?' She thought seriously about this question. Did he? He didn't seem to have been deterred by the fact that he wouldn't be getting under her sheets... still... it could be an act.

Dant's not like that, said a little voice in her head. And you know it.

She looked up at Thordan, who was waiting patiently, and said:

'If he doesn't, I'm not scared to die anymore.' Thordan nodded, unblinkingly staring into her eyes.

'Then I say go for it. You've just said yourself you have nothing to lose.' She had never seen it that way before. While a part of it was quite depressing, it also gave everything a whole new light. 'So,' Thordan continued, 'what are you going to do about him?'

'Do?'

'Well, how are you going to execute said operation? You can't mean to say you never planned on telling him.'

'Well... I sort of already did.' He raised his eyebrows. She told him the whole story of the night Danté had kissed her - the brute, Dant's rescue, her confession. Thordan listened carefully, nodding whenever something connected to something else in his mind.

'He stuck around, even after that?' She nodded. Thordan smiled widely, displaying his perfectly straight, pearly white teeth. 'I say go for him, honey!'

Telia was suddenly filled with a strange sort of apprehensive excitement. It was as if Thordan's approval meant everything would work, no questions asked. She gave a delighted squeal and he imitated her, pulling her close in a hug that made all her remaining worries disappear.

'HEY!!' Jade called angrily from the kitchen. 'We know you guys in there must be having a fabulous time, but it's _RUDE_ for a hostess to leave her guests unattended!' There was a pause, then he added, 'Actually, I'm just sick of watching these two go at each other. Hurry up, or at least let me watch.'

Telia smiled, then looked at Thordan as she climbed out of the tub. He gave her arm one last reassuring squeeze before opening the door and leading her back to the table.

* * *


End file.
